


No One Ever Went to Heaven in a Handbasket

by zebaoth



Category: Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin, Universal Century Gundam
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mommy Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebaoth/pseuds/zebaoth
Summary: According to the Kinsey reportEv'ry average man you knowMuch prefers to play his favorite sportWhen the temperature is low





	

It was in August of that year that the central air conditioning in the dormitories suffered a catastrophic failure. Down the hallway every door stood open in hope of tempting in a breeze that would never come.

Garma lay on top of his covers, vainly studying his history textbook, undershirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin, heavy with sweat. After reading the same paragraph for the seventh or so time, he tore his shirt from his back in frustration, and threw it on the floor in a damp rumpled heap.

It was then that Char entered the dormitory, closing the door behind him.

“Leave it open,” said Garma, collapsing onto his mattress. “It’s too hot.”

“I’d rather have a little privacy,” said Char.

Garma covered his eyes with his arm. “Fine,” he said. “It’s not like it made a difference anyway.”

Char sat down on the bed beside Garma. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “In the Texas Colony they kept the temperature pretty high in the summer, to maintain authenticity. It’s the sort of thing people like.”

“Well I don’t like _this_ very much,” said Garma peeking out at Char.

“Well,” said Char, leaning back against the bed, “that’s just because you need to get used to it. It’ll make you stronger.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Garma. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this weak.”

Char grabbed Garma’s wrist.

“Hey!” Garma cried out, but Char ignored him.

“Not much to work with to begin with, is there?”

“There’s no need for that,” said Garma, wrenching his wrist away. “I hate it when you tease me.”

“Do you really?” said Char. “I never got that impression.”

“Well, who _likes_ to be teased?”

“You’d be surprised,” said Char.

“You don’t need to treat me like a kid,” said Garma. “You know I’m older than you.”

“Yes, I know,” said Char. “I’m glad of it, actually.”

“What?” said Garma. “Why?”

Char propped himself up on his side. “I don’t really know for sure,” he said. “I guess it’s nice to trust in someone with more life experience.”

Garma smiled despite himself. “So you trust in me?”

“Of course I do,” said Char. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes,” said Garma, a little too eagerly. He cleared his throat. “I’d trust you with my life, Char.”

Char shifted his weight so that he was directly over Garma, each hand braced on either side of his shoulders. “Can you prove it?” he said. Garma stared at his own reflection in Char’s glasses, and saw himself so small and frightened, that he was unable to bear it.

So, instead of his eyes, he looked at Char’s mouth. It was so close. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Char’s temple from where the hair was damp and discolored and landed on Garma’s face.

Garma supposed he ought to have been disgusted.

But he was not.

Garma said nothing.

Char ran one of his hands down the skin of Garma’s bare chest, pausing at his narrow hipbone. Suddenly Garma’s body felt icy cool all over, and he shuddered. “So smooth,” said Char. “Like a woman.”

Garma flushed. “Sh- shut up,” he managed to stammer out.

Char smiled. “Now don’t be that way,” he said. “It was a compliment.” He squeezed Garma’s hip. “Don’t you think that women are beautiful?”

“I suppose,” said Garma, not meeting Char’s gaze.

“Me too,” said Char, resting his forehead on Garma’s chest. “I think women are very beautiful.” He brushed the skin of Garma’s chest with his lips as he spoke.

He took his hand off of Garma’s hip and took Garma’s hand in his own, guiding it to his head, so that Garma would begin to stroke his hair.

“I think it’s our mothers, who teach us that women are beautiful. We all have mothers, at one point in our lives. Even we had mothers once.”

Char kissed Garma’s chest. “I don’t think we ever lose our instincts, either. We all still long for our mothers…” Char took one of Garma’s nipples between his teeth. Garma drew a sharp breath.

“Stop talking like that,” said Garma.

“Like what?” said Char.

“Like… you know. Not while we’re…”

“While we’re what, Garma?” Char propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Garma. Garma tried to turn his head away but Char grabbed his chin, and forced him to make eye contact. “What are we doing, Garma.” It was not a question.

Garma held his breath a moment. Then he swallowed heavily and said, “You’re going to fuck me.”

Char laughed, and Garma’s face turned beet red. “Oh, is that what I was going to do? I wasn’t aware.”

“Stop teasing me!” said Garma. “You always do this. You make me think that you want me, and then you, you…”

Char kissed him before he could speak his doubts. It was a soft kiss, but a forceful one, and there was no escape. “All you ever had to do was ask,” he whispered.

Garma’s eyes were wide with something like fear. “Please,” he said. “Please, Char.”

**Author's Note:**

> rating will  
> uh  
> go up


End file.
